Once a Week by A. A. Milne

  THE PARTING GUEST

  When nice people ask me to their houses for the week-end, I reply that Ishall be delighted to come, but that pressure of work will prevent mystaying beyond Tuesday. Sometimes, in spite of this, they try to kick meout on the Monday; and if I find that they are serious about it I maypossibly consent to go by an evening train. In any case, it always seemsto me a pity to have to leave a house just as you are beginning to knowyour way to the bathroom.

  "Is the 9.25 too early for you?" said Charles on Sunday night _a propos_of nothing that I had said.

  "Not if it's in the evening," I answered.

  "It's in the morning."

  "Then it's much too early. I never travel before breakfast. But why doyou ask?"

  "Well, I've got to ride over to Newtown to-morrow----"

  "To-morrow?" I said in surprise. "Aren't we talking about Tuesday?"

  It appeared that we weren't. It also came out that Charles and his wife,not anticipating the pleasure of my company beyond Monday, had arrangedto ride over the downs to Newtown to inspect a horse. They would not beback until the evening.

  "But that's all right, Charles," I said. "If you have a spare horse, asteady one which doesn't wobble when it canters, I will ride with you."

  "There's only the old pony," said Charles, "and he will be wanted todrive you to the station."

  "Not until Tuesday," I pointed out.

  Charles ignored this remark altogether.

  "You couldn't ride Joseph, anyway," he said.

  "Then I might run beside you, holding on to your stirrup. My ancestorsalways went into battle like that. We are still good runners."

  Charles turned over some more pages of his timetable.

  "There is a 10.41," he announced.

  "Just when I shall be getting to like you," I sighed.

  "Molly and I have to be off by ten. If you caught the 10.41, you wouldwant to leave here by a quarter past."

  "I shouldn't _want_ to leave," I said reproachfully; "I should go withthe greatest regret."

  "The 9.25, of course, gets you up to town much earlier."

  "Some such idea, no doubt, would account for its starting before the10.41. What have you at about 4.30?"

  "If you don't mind changing at Plimton, there's a 10.5----"

  I got up and lit my candle.

  "Let's wait till to-morrow and see what the weather's like," I saidsleepily. "I am not a proud man, but after what you've said, and if it'sat all wet, I may actually be glad to catch an early train." And Imarched upstairs to bed.

  However, a wonderful blue sky next morning made any talk of Londonutterly offensive. My host and hostess had finished breakfast by thetime I got down, and I was just beginning my own when the sound of thehorses on the gravel brought me out.

  "I'm sorry we've got to dash off like this," said Mrs. Charles, smilingat me from the back of Pompey. "Don't you be in any hurry to go. Thereare plenty of trains."

  "Thank you. It would be a shame to leave the country on a morning likethis, wouldn't it? I shall take a stroll over the hills before lunch,and sit about in the garden in the afternoon. There's a train at five, Ithink."

  "We shan't be back by then, I'm afraid, so this will be good-bye."

  I made my farewells, and Pompey, who was rather fresh, went off sidewaysdown the drive. This left me alone with Charles.

  "Good-bye, Charles," I said, patting him with one hand and his horsewith the other. "Don't you bother about me. I shall be quite happy bymyself."

  He looked at me with a curious smile and was apparently about to saysomething, when Caesar suddenly caught sight of my stockings. These,though in reality perfectly tasteful, might well come as a surprise to ayoung horse, and Caesar bolted down the drive to tell Pompey about it. Iwaved to them all from the distance and returned to my breakfast.

  After breakfast I lit a pipe and strolled outside. As I stood at thedoor drinking in the beauty of the morning I was the victim of a curiousillusion. It seemed to me that outside the front door was thepony-cart--Joseph in the shafts, the gardener's boy holding the reins,and by the side of the boy my bag!

  "We'll only just have time, sir," said the boy.

  "But--but I'm going by the five train," I stammered.

  "Well, sir, I shall be over at Newtown this afternoon--with the cart."

  I did not like to ask him why, but I thought I knew. It was, I toldmyself, to fetch back the horse which Charles was going over to inspect,the horse to which I had to give up my room that night.

  "Very well," I said. "Take the bag now and leave it in the cloak-room.I'll walk in later." What the etiquette was when your host gave you ahint by sending your bag to the station and going away himself, I didnot know. But however many bags he packed and however many horses heinspected, I was not to be moved till the five o'clock train.

  Half an hour after my bag was gone I made a discovery. It was that, whenI started walking to the five o'clock train, I should have to start inpumps....

  . . . . .

  "My dear Charles," I wrote that night, "it was delightful to see youthis week-end, and I only wish I could have stayed with you longer, but,as you know, I had to dash up to town by the five train to inspect amule. I am sorry to say that a slight accident happened just before Ileft you. In the general way, when I catch an afternoon train, I like topack my bag overnight, but on this occasion I did not begin until ninein the morning. This only left me eight hours, and the result was thatin my hurry I packed my shoes by mistake, and had to borrow a pair ofyours in which to walk to the station. _I will bring them down with menext time I come._"

  I may say that they are unusually good shoes, and if Charles doesn'twant me he must at least want them. So I am expecting another invitationby every post. When it arrives I shall reply that I shall be delightedto come, but that, alas! pressure of work will prevent my staying beyondTuesday.